


one moor river

by too_much_in_the_sun



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Gen, M/M, mad scientists are bad at self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 05:10:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3924112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/too_much_in_the_sun/pseuds/too_much_in_the_sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two nerds go for a walk on the moors, one of them is completely not up to it, Clerval gives Victor a much-needed hug.</p>
<p>Set during that ramble around England.</p>
<p>Ported over from my tumblr, so it may seem incomplete, but I don't intend to continue it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one moor river

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't think of a title and didn't give it one on my tumblr so I went with a shitty pun on [a Colin Clive movie](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0025600/).

As he approached the bench where he’d left Victor, Henry wiped the sweat from his brow, panting, his muscles warm from exertion. They’d started off their walk across the snowy moor together, but Victor had been feeling weak, and after persuasion Henry had left him behind.

“Victor!” he hallooed as he drew near. His friend’s small, huddled figure didn’t stir an inch, and Henry forced himself to go faster.

“Victor?” he called. Snow had settled on Victor’s narrow shoulders and collected in his lap. His narrow hands were folded in his lap, mottled ice-white and purple with the cold.

“Victor?” He touched Victor’s shoulder gently, then took one of his hands in his — it was freezing cold, he found to his horror.

He pushed back the hood of Victor’s cape, and felt anxiously at his neck for a pulse. To his relief it was still there, though slow and trickling. Victor’s eyes were closed, snowflakes clotted in his long eyelashes, his lips blue with the cold, china-doll circles of red on his cheekbones.

Henry took his friend by the shoulders and shook him. Victor was frightfully limp in his arms. “Victor, you must wake up!”

Victor’s eyelids fluttered. “Henry?” he muttered. “What’s the matter, my dear?”

Henry felt at his cheeks and forehead. He was clammy, his skin cool. And his clothes were damp from the thick, wet snow. “You must have fainted. We’re going back to the inn right now.”

Victor’s eyebrows drew together in a dreamy expression of confusion. “I thought you wanted to go for a walk.”

“Victor, love, we’re going to get you inside before you freeze to death.” He pushed Victor’s hair back from his face, and stroked his cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Can you walk?”

“I don’t know,” Victor said softly. “I can hardly feel my feet.”

“Well, stand up and we’ll see.” Victor couldn’t be very heavy anyway. If he couldn’t walk, Henry would carry him. “I’ll help you, grab my arms if you need to.” He extended his arms for Victor to grab onto if he lost his balance. They’d become old hands at this in the months after Victor’s nervous collapse.

Victor put his thin arms over Henry’s, putting his hands behind Henry’s neck, and settled his feet under him. In turn, Henry put his arms around Victor.

After a moment of silence, Victor began to lever himself upright, wobbling on his feet like a fawn. Henry let Victor lean on him heavily, and was a little dismayed to feel that Victor was no heavier than a child. After his long convalescence, Henry had prided himself in helping Victor regain at least a little of the weight he’d lost in his long months of obsessive toil. And now he’d lost it all again.

Victor breathed out with force, and rearranged his arms so that his left hand was tucked into his coat pocket, and his right hand slung about Henry’s neck. Henry in turn adjusted his position, left arm around Victor’s shoulders. He could feel the sharp definition of the bones even through his thick coat.

“Victor, my dear, can you walk?” said Henry.

“Yes, I think so,” he said, his voice slow and dreamy. “You’ll have to carry me if I faint again, though, won’t you, dear?”

“There are worse things I could end up doing, my love,” Henry said gently, already thinking ahead to when they would arrive at the inn. He’d have to get Victor out of his wet clothes, sit him by the fire, get the innkeeper to bring him broth. “All right, let’s go.”

“I love you too, Henry,” Victor said, his voice slurred by his frozen lips.

They set off together, slowly lurching through the oncoming night, and behind them the snow filled in their footprints.


End file.
